Unspoken
by Shiro
Summary: There's an unspoken bond between Jim and Melfina, but she can only think of him in a motherly sense. He finds even that sort of relationship would be enough for him. (JimxMel fic)


"Unspoken" 

By Jannah P. 

(This story was inspired by another fanfiction I read, _Never Grow Up,_ which first made me think about Jim and Mel as a couple) 

The city bustled, its lights decorating and illuminating the night sky. A certain red-painted spacecraft nestled securely in one of the less-frequented docks. The group who had piloted the ship into port had long since left to explore the sleepless city, and even the standard guards positioned at each dock seemed to have vanished. The steady click-clacking of computer keys from within the ship revealed this to be untrue. Indeed, someone was still inside the odd red ship. 

Large eyes regarded a flickering computer screen with what seemed to be intense concentration and interest. A sigh escaped their owner's lips as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. 

"Have you been here this whole time, Jim?" 

Jim Hawking turned instantly, swiveling the chair to face his questioner. He hadn't needed to turn, of course. He would recognize her soft voice anywhere, no matter how busy a din surrounded them. Only - this wasn't the heavily populated street of Sentinel Four or some other equivalent spaceport. She cocked her head to one side, waiting for his answer. Her dark hair fell across her shoulder as she did so, and he found himself avoiding her innocent gaze. 

"Pretty much." His hands reached out, fingers resting on the keys of the computer. The question that raced through his mind had passed his lips before he realized it. "Is Gene with you?" 

She smiled, shaking her head. "He's still having fun out on the town. He asked about you." Her hands moved beneath her cloak. "Why do you stay cooped up in here, when you could be out having fun?" 

"I just - " He looked to the side, finding interest in the pattern of the floor. "I don't feel like it, that's all." She didn't reply; he had a feeling she wouldn't. It wasn't long before his fingers flew across the computer keys once more, yet she continued to stand nearby. It was easy to forget she was there. Yet, it was impossible for him to do so. From the corner of his eye, he could still see her. Every time he caught a glimpse of her dark hair and gently innocent eyes he could only snap his eyes back to the flickering screen, ashamed. It wasn't right to feel that way; she loved Aniki. She always would, and he would always be just a child. It was madness, to think such things. 

"Why don't you-" He stopped in mid-sentence, the words caught in his throat. If hurt to tell her to leave, to go back to Gene. That's what it would mean, of course. _Why don't you head out and have some fun... I don't want to bore you._ He sighed. _Story of my life._

"Why don't I what?" 

He smiled - it was fake, of course. "Why don't you go back and have a good time? I'll be fine here, and I'm probably boring you already." 

"Not really." She smiled then. Warmly. That smile nearly melted his heart, but he knew it was meant out of friendship. Friendship or the love a mother to a beloved son. Nothing more. It was the best he could hope for. Yet, even that much was enough. _I could live off that smile for years._

"Gene'll probably be back late." 

"I know." Her voice was soft, and closer than he had thought her to be. He glanced over only to find the spot she had occupied empty. From behind the chair, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace lasting for only a moment. "Don't stay up too late yourself, alright?" She moved away from the chair, her steps light as the door leading to the rest of the ship opened to her touch. It closed silently behind her, although unable to muffle the faint humming filtering through from the other side. 

_Story of my life..._ He watched the flickering screen with saddened eyes and a guilty conscience. _Gene will wonder where she went._ The song filtering through the closed door grew fainter until he could no longer hear even the slightest whisp of melody. 

The stillness of the air was deafening, soon filled by the steady click-clacking of fingers across computer keys. Somewhere in the ship, a maiden sang. 

_~end~_


End file.
